Superflow
by SaintAugustana
Summary: Joey and Sydney certainly have a way with danger. If only Gibbs shared their enthusiasm for the extreme. Warnings for cp/spanking/corporal punishment of minors.
1. Superflow

**Superflow**, an NCIS fanfic by Fish

**Author's Note: Joey and Sydney are the same age, thirteen. This story takes place during the summer of the same year that our favorite miscreants ventured to see The Killers in concert without Gibbs' permission.**

**Chapter 1 – Superflow**

Given the word, Sydney slipped the mix tape into the purple boom box, moving his fingers to rest over the keys of his switchboard. Satisfied, he gave Joey a thumbs-up and tapped the Play button. She smiled, glancing at the boys on either side of her. Matt and Ben nodded and returned the gesture, and the speakers began to boom Track 1: Flo Rida's _Club Can't Handle Me_, the first of many similar tunes on the tape the kids had spent a pleasant afternoon recording.

The trio fell into a series of skillful breakdances and acrobatic tricks. The floor vibrated beneath them, dust rising from the sunkissed floorboards with every perfectly time landing of their sneakers upon it. Joey had never been able to stifle the adrenaline rush given by this favorite weekend activity, especially when her best partners were involved. She, Ben, and Matt tossed each other elated grins before falling into synchronization once more towards the end of the song.

_You know I know how to make 'em stop and stare as I zone out, the club can't even handle me right now – watching you watching me we go all out, you know who shut it down -_

Song ended, Joey rose out of the Suicide, panting happily and extending her arm to help Ben as Matt popped to feet on her other side. Sydney gave a slow clap that echoed in the small, white room. The dancers shrugged it off with a laugh and an elaborate bow.

"That was great, guys," Joey commented cheerily as Sydney tossed her an orange gatorade. "Did we get it filmed?"

"Recorded," her foster brother returned, subdued. "I ran out of blank tapes the last practice."

Joey eyed him with one brow raised. "You said you were going to buy more."

He seemed taken aback, lowering his bottled water. "Well, if I had the money-"

"We got our allowances two days ago," she hissed, drawing closer. Unperturbed, he advanced, glancing uneasily at Matt and Ben, who hadn't stepped off.

"Do we have to talk about this here? I'm sorry, alright?"

Joey wasn't satisfied, but she tore her angry green eyes away from his piercing blue ones.

"Hey, don't sweat it, J," Ben entreated, combing a hand through his curly dreadlocks. "We got this thing down."

"I think my dad might have a few blank tapes you can use, Syd," Matt put in.

"Thanks, dude," Sydney replied half-heartedly, his excitement gone. "But maybe it's a sign. Joey's been after me to go digital for a while."

"Well, in that case, I think he has a copy of Digital Audio Recording For Dummies," Matt snickered, pumping fists with laughing Ben.

"Screw you, Chang," Sydney snapped, grabbing the sweaty towel from his pale hands and stalking back to the corner to gather his things. Joey scowled at the boys, who settled down into easy smiles, clapping her on the back and grabbing their backpacks before taking their leave together.

A tense moment of silence passed. Joey took another swig of her energy drink and toyed with the silver chain around her neck, tugging her father's dog tags out of her wifebeater and throwing on a gray jumper printed with a text graphic that spelled out the word _Superflow_ in large, colorful graffiti letters.

"Aw, come on, Salvador, they're just messing with you."

Sydney shoved the last few items into his backpack and threw the straps over his shoulders. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to hear that from them."

Joey shut her mouth and watched him leave. She heard him stepping loudly down the staircase to the first floor, tossed her empty bottle into a far trash can and trailed after him.


	2. Nine Minutes

**Chapter 2 – Nine Minutes**

Joey caught up to her brother in the lobby, waving a hasty goodbye to Swayze, the director of the corner-5th Avenue School for Talented Young Artists. Carmine Patrick 'Swayze' Murphy was a young man, mid-thirties, with a passion for music and dance unmatched by most of the students he taught in his mom-and-pop establishment that was bigger in heart than square footage. To a lot of undiscovered kids with the raw talents of Mozart or Michael Jackson it was a second home, where they could pound on the drums for hours or dance until they collapsed out of sheer exhaustion, content that Swayze wouldn't bleed their parents wallets dry giving them lessons in anything they wanted to learn.

Swayze nodded as they headed out the double glass doors together and disappeared into the afternoon crowd of a lazy summer day.

Sydney was striding purposefully ahead. Joey jogged up to him, pushing her hands into the pockets of her lime green basketball shorts.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

The boy seemed about to respond, but gave a little shrug of his shoulders. "Yeah, Joey, I'm cool." He smiled.

She wasn't convinced, but as long as he was peppy again she didn't care if he was pretending it. "Great. Here, let me get that," she tugged the backpack loaded down with drinks and recording equipment from her brother's back and slung it over her shoulder.

"Race you to the subway station," Sydney erupted, punching her on the arm. Laughing, she hitched the pack higher and took off down the sidewalk after him.

The kids hopped off the train when it reached Washington Boulevard and hurried up the steps to the street level, making playful jabs at each others' shoulders between the throng of people in their way. Joey made it up to the sidewalk first, tugging Sydney out of the way of the crowd and beneath a thin tree. He glanced at his watch.

"Shit, we have ten minutes."

Joey exhaled through pursed lips. "Shortcut?"

Syd sighed, clutching his bruising bicep. "You know he said... not to.. do that," he panted hoarsely.

"Suppose trouble's a sure thing," Joey replied, leaning against the tree. "He'll be angry we were late."

Her brother glared at her, his expression plainly resentful of the reverse-psychology ploy. Joey smiled, however, and he couldn't help but laugh. "Nine minutes."

"We'll do it seven," she assured, grinning hugely and bolting down the sidewalk like a streak of lightening.

Together they flew through the mass of people going slowly on about their daily business, dodging briefcases, rounding the nearest intersection just as the traffic light flashed red and the cars screeched to a halt for them to dash across the white-stripped pavement. One cab overstepped the pedestrian crossing line, missing Joey – Sydney vaulted against the hood, sliding back into an even run as the driver blared the horn. The boy returned the gesture, throwing up his middle finger as the pair of them disappeared into an alley.

Through a block-length labyrinth they sprinted, all-stars pounding the dusty concrete. Quickly they reached what appeared to be a dead-end, but they sped forward, leaping upon a pine green dumpster and landing cat-like upon the high chainlink fence, scrambling over easily and landing crouched upon the ground.

"Five minutes," Sydney breathed.

"I went first last time," Joey entreated, sweeping a hand forward. In the distance ahead, sunlight shone against the cool brick alley walls and dogs barked at passing vehicles.

"Baby," he grinned, but took the lead.

They vaulted forward, sliding under and over the railings of stairs down one level and up another to a new section of sidewalk, caged in on all sides by barbed wire fencing. Sydney slid to a stop a second too early; Joey collided with his back and they both crashed into the metal chainlink. Syd kicked her in the shin. She punched him in the side.

"I don't see them," he whispered.

Joey tipped her head. Slowly, Sydney lifted the unlocked latch on the gate before them and they slid into the dirt-covered lot, tiptoeing toward the opposite gate, on the other side of which they could see the wall enclosing the base, and beyond that, the looming brown-bricked NCIS HQ.

"Olly olly oxen free," Joey returned quietly, bolting forward.

Suddenly, both children halted in their tracks, glancing at each other, and then at the street on the other side of the fence. A few seconds later, vociferous sirens blaring, a fire engine shot past, horns blaring deafeningly. They released a collective sigh of relief.

"Sydney!"

Just as the boy turned away, he was tackled by a massive dog, tripping and colliding with the hard ground, crying out horribly. Joey rushed forward, grabbing a jagged rock from a pile of rubble and bashing it against the beast's head. The animal whined and shrugged off, disoriented. Joey hauled Sydney to his feet and they stumbled toward the gate.

"It's locked!" Joey shouted over the resumed barking. Over the mounds of dirt and gravel, two more guard dogs appeared. "Climb it!"

"I can't!" Sydney returned, terrified.

"Well, if you'd _prefer_ to die here," Joey rebuked facetiously, yanking the backpack from his shoulders and pushing him toward the fence as she grabbed another handful of chunky rocks from the ground and covering the boy's escape.

Sydney clambered up the fence with measurably difficulty, dropping to the ground on the other side with none of his previous grace – his legs buckled beneath him before he could stand.

"Joey!"

Joey rushed back, tossing the bags over the fence and leaping upon it herself.

_Come on, come on, come on,_ Syd muttered under his breath. The three mutts were snarling, crashing against each other against the chainlink, shaking the girl like a chicken on a roasting spit. Sydney jammed a stick through the holes, poking one in the eye and the other in the chest, smashing a rock against the caught paw of another. They howled, two retreated. The other yanked his paw free and snagged at Joey's shoe with its yellowing teeth. With an instinctive growl, Joey yanked the switchblade out of her sleeve and rammed it into the dog's side. It yelped terribly and shot off, twisting wildly, trying to get at the bloody wound in its side. Joey scrambled the rest of the way up, dropping into the grass beside her brother. Gasping heavily, Sydney collapsed next to her, clutching his chest. His right arm possessed a thinly bleeding scrape wound, and the canvas of Joey's shoe was torn.

"I don't think I've ever been so scared my whole life," he admitted. "My heart feels like its bouncing around a freight train."

Joey chuckled. "Yeah? Feel mine."

Sydney removed his sweaty palm from his tee and placed it over his sisters. Joey returned the gesture.

Just then, a shadow blocked out the sun. The kids looked up into the concernedly unhappy face of an NCIS security officer.

"Hullo, Frank," Joey greeted resignedly.


	3. It's a Dog Eat Dog World

**Chapter 3 – It's a Dog Eat Dog World**

"Well, at least we made it on time." Joey whispered when Ducky left the room for a moment. She and Sydney were seated upon adjacent autopsy tables, but the boy's mood had gone sour and quiet again.

"What's the matter _now_?" Joey huffed.

Sydney's head shot up. "This is your fault."

"How is this _my _fault?" she retorted, a bit too loudly, making her brother glance around uneasily and glare daggers in her direction.

"Taking the shortcut was YOUR IDEA!" he hissed.

"An idea YOU agreed with!" she shouted.

"Only because you suckered me into it! With your stupid... reverse psychology crap!"

"What are you whining about? Nothing bad happened! Nobody got hurt!"

"We COULD have! And maybe I'm just tired of you using me to get what you want! You don't even care how I feel!"

"What are you _talking_ about, Salvadore?"

He seemed ready to answer, but choked the words back. "Forget it. You won't listen. You never do."

His verdict stung Joey to the core, but she shrugged it off as coolly as she could. "Bite me," she replied half-heartedly. "Chickenshit," she muttered.

Sydney's ears pricked upon the expulsion of this word and his temper flared accordingly. Throwing his legs over the side of the table he rushed at his sister, yanking her down and pushing her to the floor. He landed a solid punch to her gut before she kicked him off and they tumbled along the tiled floor a few feet, crashing into the rolling tool cart; it collided with the floor, raining down all manner of sharp instruments, rousing Ducky from his office.

The snarling children didn't hear his cry of outrage, or his use of the intercom to radio Gibbs, who came rushing down as quickly as he could.

"Hey!" he shouted into the fray, untangling the two and hauling each one up by their collars. Sydney was sporting a split lip and Joey a quickly-reddening eye. Oddly, they seemed not to notice his presence, struggling against his grip to get at each other, continuing to howl insults in opposite directions.

"That is ENOUGH," Gibbs commanded, giving each of them a decent shake. The children swallowed and fell silent, but their faces were plastered with perpetual glares.

"What the hell has gotten into you two?"

"Ask _her,_" Sydney spat.

Gibbs looked at Joey, who folded her arms and turned away. "Ask _him_."

"Alright," he sighed heavily. "If you're both set on behaving like toddlers, I'll be happy to oblige treating you in kind. We're going home to deal with this now. Doctor Mallard, escort Sydney upstairs, have McGee keep an eye on him. I need a private word." Ducky nodded and approached, placing his hand on Sydney's shoulder and pulling him away. Joey watched him hunker off, but then he pivoted, violently shrugging the doc's hand off his arm.

"Next time why don't you just tie a bloody steak to my neck?_ That _way I won't be in _yours_."

And with that, Sydney turned away, and Joey was stricken to the core.

When the glass doors had slid shut and the morgue was silent once more, Gibbs released his goddaughter.

"What did he mean by that?"

Joey didn't answer. She seemed deeply withdrawn into herself.

Gibbs popped her lightly on the side of the head. She sucked in a startled breath and flinched away, still distracted by her own thoughts.

"Literally or metaphorically?" she muttered. Gibbs took a firm grasp of her collar and tugged her close. She looked up. Now having her full attention, he thought for a moment and cocked his head to the right. "Metaphorical."

"I … I don't know." Her brow furrowed deeply.

"Let's try literally, then."

Joey swallowed nervously, but only shook her head and didn't answer.

Gibbs nodded. "Well, I suppose I'll get it out of one of you or the other. Sydney's quite vocal when he's having the hide stripped off him."

Joey tugged away from her godfather's grip, stumbling toward the opposite end of the nearest autopsy table. "Don't," she mumbled, her glassy green eyes refusing to look directly at him, "don't do that." She leaned over the sink and took a deep breath.

"Don't do what?" he approached.

"Don't reverse-psychology me, Gibbs." The statement was bold, but lacked the bite similar exclamations of the girl's were famous for. "I've seen too many shrinks for that to work."

Gibbs' polished leather boots were barely audible on the smooth tiled floor. "Uh-huh," he murmured. "I've lost count of them, myself. You've probably seen enough to have picked up on a few things."

Joey remained silent for a moment, but relaxed her shoulders, roughly grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser and scrubbing at her face before turning to face him and chucking the wad into a trash can. Unable to hold his penetrating gaze, she folded her arms tensely and looked down at her sleeves.

"Probably," she returned. _Probably_ was a modest admission, an understatement.

"So tell me what's wrong with your brother."

Joey scoffed. "He's... he complains about everything. He can't even do one simple thing, one... simple _thing_," she clenched her teeth. "All he had to do was climb a fence. A stupid fence. Life-or-death situation we're in and he finds time to complain about the fence but he can't_ climb_ the fence, no, of course not, of course he won't climb it. And earlier, all he had to do was buy a tape. ONE tape!" Her tone having grown violent and low, Joey gave a stifled scream of frustration, smacking her fists into her thighs and kneading her head with sweaty knuckles. Gibbs sighed and approached, but not before a final temper flare caused his typically-cathartic child to lash out with one arm, sending a metal cup of dirty scalpels flying to the floor with a crash of bloody spray.

"Easy," Gibbs wasn't happy with her behavior, but Joey's expressions of rage were so few and far between that he often allowed their more insignificant ramifications to go unchecked. She would gain nothing by being punished simply for feeling an emotion vital to the shaping and formation of her better character, and it would have been far-fetched to imagine she was shallow enough to feel angry only out of spite for his rules or to test their boundaries. No, she was somewhere else entirely, buried in some of the darker thoughts no doubt swarming her headspace. Unlike a confession from Sydney, which Gibbs could expect to be at least mostly truthful, he couldn't take anything Joey said at face value. She had been through enough trauma in her life to make her mysterious and protective of her emotions.

He gently pushed her arms away from her face and reached beneath her arms, tugging her up into his.

"Let's get some air."


	4. Misdirected

**Chapter 4 - Misdirected**

** Author's Note: If it seems that Sydney doesn't get as much face-time as Joey in my stories about them, remember that they are being told from Joey's non-omniscient point of view. Occasionally there will be a scene in which she is not present, but they will be rare. **

When Gibbs cracked open the pasty green door, Joey practically ran outside, hopping nimbly up onto the raised platform in the center of the roof of the NCIS main building. She gripped the railing, peering over the ledge at the people mulling about their business below, birds roosting in the low oak trees, the wind whipping up the bricks and rustling her mop of hair.

Gibbs followed easily, pulling off his suit jacket and laying it over a section of railing before untucking his navy polo and pushing his hands into his pockets as he recalled the advice of one of the least-despised psychologists Joey had seen a few months after her trauma with Vincent Grey: _"When she displays antagonistic behavior, it's important to address it as immediately as possible. Do this on __her__terms__, but with the same judgment and authority you use daily as a parent. Joey likes space to test her boundaries, to roam, to think and express her train of thought freely in words, but she needs to know that there __are__ boundaries, and her actions will have consequences. As a parent it is your job to be both a friend and an authority, and there will be rough times when she needs you to be both. _

He coughed lightly, leaning against the stone wall next to her. While she didn't speak, he contemplated how far they'd come, how occasionally he found a bit of magic in that psycho-babble, that which members of his team sometimes referred to simply as _being nice to other people_, a notion Gibbs was not particularly fond of or in possession of enough patience to handle. He was used to confronting people and getting what he wanted out of them, every time, in little time. And meeting them on their terms? Hah.

But he'd been steadily learning how to be a parent since Joey was six, and it wasn't with just her he had to be different – Sydney had similar needs, of course, but they were yin and yang, his children. Of course, he didn't mind being a parent. It brought a sense of cathartic stability to his hectic life.

He glanced to his left. Joey had climbed up onto the ledge and was sitting cross-legged upon the molded stone, resting her elbows upon her knees.

"You want to tell me what's really on your mind?" he encouraged.

Joey swallowed.

"I think the bloody steak is a good place to start," Gibbs prodded the ripped lining of Joey's gray sneaker. Its treads were embedded with some thick, reddish-dirt substance.

"I don't want Sydney to be in trouble," she responded distantly.

"We aren't talking about Sydney."

She licked her lips and lowered her gaze to her lap. "We took the Shortcut."

"I see." It was simply confirmation of an obvious fact he already knew.

"It was my idea. I suckered him into it – he... he was afraid of getting into trouble for being late. I thought it was worth the risk. And it's not like the dogs are always in there -sometimes McGarrison has them locked up inside with him if it's really hot out. They didn't even show up until we were almost across the lot." She looked at Gibbs, faint traces of pleading in her eyes, but his disappointment enumerated his anger at the children's stupidity. But he did not speak yet.

"How many?"

"Three." she whispered resignedly. "We almost made it."

Gibbs nodded once. "I've seen them. Considering their size you are incredibly lucky Sydney's arm is still attached, let alone without stitches."

She swallowed, sniffing once. "I know," her voice cracked. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you are," he replied. "I'm not the one who needs to hear it."

She nodded, scrubbing at her face with one sleeve.

When the elevator doors opened upon the bullpen, Gibbs nodded at Joey, who stepped out and paced toward McGee's desk, where the agent and her brother sat playing tic-tac-toe. She placed a hand on Sydney's shoulder and he looked up, first at her, then to where his foster father awaited him in the elevator.

Sydney smiled lightly at Tim and pulled Joey toward the center of the bullpen. "Did he... uhm..."

Joey shook her head. "No. He just...wants to talk."

The boy nodded and released her shoulders, brushing past her toward the elevator.

"Sydney," she called after him.

He pivoted, and it was obvious the earlier hurt still lingered in his expression. "Yeah."

Joey faltered, but regained her composure quickly. In the short ride down from the roof to the bullpen the distinct impression she'd betrayed him spread like wildfire in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm... sorry."

He swallowed back saliva and nodded, disappearing around the corner.

The elevator doors swung shut and Joey deflated a bit, pacing mechanically over to collapse in Gibbs' chair. She pressed both hands to her churning gut. Sydney's reply was so devoid of any recognizably grateful emotion that she just felt sick, and sicker still now that all she had to contemplate was what Gibbs would do when he got the two of them home.


	5. Surprise, Surprise

**Chapter 5 – Surprise, Surprise **

When Gibbs and Sydney returned, Joey was toying with some crayons and a pad of paper. The tell-tale ding of the elevator and preceding scent of dark roast gave the former away, and Sydney emerged from behind him just as Ducky entered the opposite side of the bullpen with a first-aid kit. Joey hopped up obligingly so Sydney could have the seat while the good doctor cleaned and bandaged his still-exposed wound. Joey stared at him, but he only nodded distantly. Gibbs snapped his fingers, gesturing for her to give the boy some space.

A few minutes later he was ushering them into the back of the Charger, noticing that neither of them fussed or argued about being able to ride shotgun. No, they sat silently on opposite sides of the wide, leather backseat. From what he could see out of the rearview mirror, they were either refusing to speak to each other or simply lost for words.

Joey glanced in her brother's direction. He had drawn two gentle fingers to his lightly bleeding lip, pulling the appendages away and gazing somberly at the red stains. Joey swallowed, falling back against the crevice between her seat and the window, and pulled out her iPod. As she pushed the buds into her ears she caught her reflection in the gray screen, pulling it close to reveal the makings of a decent shiner circling her right eye. She fondled it gingerly. It stung, but in the way of those minor black eyes that wouldn't get much worse before it got better. She made a mental note to add it to the extensive list of injuries she'd chronicled since she could write.

Still, she imagined, glancing toward Sydney, the worst bruises were never only skin-deep.

They didn't go home, surprisingly. When Joey looked up they were pulling into the parking lot of Wang's, the family's favorite restaurant for egg drop soup and mandarin chicken. Joey pushed the iPod back into her backpack, having forgotten her troubles for the moment. Eating out was a rare treat. Confusing, given the trouble they were in, but she wasn't about to question the inherent goodness of lo mien and fried rice. She was about to nudge Syd in the ribs to alert him to their location, but he was already experiencing the preliminary excitement of his favorite food. So much so, it seemed, that his dour expression had softened noticeably, and he let a smile slip in Joey's direction, which she returned.

"Mmmm," Syd mumbled around a mouthful of noodles. "Toss me one of those."

Joey slid a fortune cookie across the round table and grabbed one from the pile of two remaining. Gibbs put down his chopsticks and accepted the remaining.

"Ready?" he inquired in mock seriousness. The kids looked up, then at each other, and the three of them broke out into a light chuckle, each passing their cookie to the person on their left.

"Ready," they affirmed together.

"Go."

There was a mad ripping of plastic wrappers and three consecutive snaps of the hard, pasty dough as each cookie was cleaved in two sugary chunks.

"Ah," Gibbs flashed his strip of paper. "Victory is mine." First to get his fortune out of the package, he cleared his throat dramatically and read it aloud. "_Business and health matters around you will blossom._"

Sydney and Joey exchanged skeptical looks, giggling when Gibbs reached over to tickle their sides. "I've gotten better notifications from the mailman," he chuckled, tossing the paper into the center of the table. "Who was second?"

Joey shrugged. "You go, Syd."

"No, you go ahead," he entreated. "I'm still trying to figure mine out."

"Alright. Ahem," she paused suddenly, cheeks flushed around the grin upon her face. "_Resist the temptation to take shortcuts._"

Sydney 'oooooed' dramatically, lolling against the back of his seat. "Told ya so."

"Shut up," Joey retorted playfully, tossing a chunk of chicken in his direction.

"Watch it, Karate Kid," Gibbs caught the flying morsel and dropped into an empty carton. "Syd?"

Sydney held up his paper. "I don't know what it means."

"Read it and maybe we can figure it out."

"_Life is a tragedy for those who feel and a comedy for those who think."_

Joey gave it about a split-second of thought before deciding she had no ideas, either. The children looked up at Gibbs, who seemed to be deeply pondering the phrase, but he offered no commentary other the following:

"It is at that, it is at that."


	6. Yin and Yang

**Chapter 6 – Yin and Yang**

** Author's Note: For those of you interested, the fortunes from the fortune cookies in the last chapter were not invented, at least not by me. Those minute strips of paper are one of the few things in this world I collect, and out of my modest tin of a eighty-nine I pulled the three aforementioned.  
Also, I have posted a picture of Joey and Sydney's bedroom on my profile [and I hope the link showed up correctly.]  
**

By the time they pulled into the driveway the sky was dark and stars alight. Gibbs helped the kids into their backpacks and nudged them toward the house, checking his watch as they came through the door. "Nine-thirty," he mused. "Alright, you have fifteen minutes and then I want you both in the living room."

_Back to that_, Joey thought sourly, the butterflies rising through her stomach stuffed with chinese-y goodness. No doubt Sydney felt the same. "We know the drill," Joey nodded, grabbing the banister and heading up the stairs to the attic, her brother close behind.

While Sydney was in the shower Joey hung over the bathroom sink, leaning close to the steamed mirror and gazing at her black-eyed reflection. Unsure about how she felt regarding the trophy bruise, she hopped off the stool and pasted up her toothbrush.

"Why do you think he took us out to eat?" Sydney inquired from behind the shower curtain.

Joey spat into the sink and rinsed the mint out of her mouth. "Don't know." She took a swig of mouthwash and spat again, wondering briefly if he'd dropped any important hints during his conversation with Sydney, and then recalling her own. They hadn't spoken about much then, but Joey felt herself failing to suppress the guilt regarding her unwise actions regarding her foster brother.

"Did he say anything to you?"

"What?" she replied hastily, startled out of reverie.

Sydney turned off the water and stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his middle. He approached the sink, carding a hand through his choppy brown hair. "Did he say anything to you?"

"No," Joey shook her head. "You?"

"Not really." He began to brush his teeth, noticing his sister still prodding her eye.

He spat and rinsed his mouth. "Sorry about punching you."

"Ahh," Joey dismissed. "I've been hit harder." She gazed pointedly at him. He caught the subtle jab and chuckled.

"Sorry about your lip," she returned seriously.

"Could have been worse," he shrugged. Joey eyed him sympathetically. "You could have been aiming."

Joey couldn't help it, she laughed, ducking her head into her chest and closing her eyes as her lungs inflated with the breath of some classic sibling humor, and for once she began to appreciate their playful rivalry. It was good, it was healthy, but most of all, it was what kept them close.

But there were yet more grievous things to atone for.

She regained her composure as they stepped out of the bathroom and fished through their respective drawers for clean pajamas, facing away from each other long enough for Joey to throw on red-striped boxers and a black tank and Sydney to slip into his own boxers [solid black with minute white pirate skulls] and a blue wifebeater.

Joey tossed herself into one of the squashy chairs in the center of the room, reaching for the alarm clock. "Three minutes."

"Good timing." Sydney collapsed into the adjacent chair, scrubbing at his sopping hair with a towel. He looked over at his sister, who had tucked herself cross-legged into the saggy cushion and seemed to be thinking inwardly very hard. "Are you nervous?"

She shrugged. "Are you?"

"Yeah. I am. Oddly, though, I'm not a wreck. And thanks."

"For what?"

"For not pointing it out." He smiled.

Joey gave an obliging huff. "Sure. Sydney?"

He looked up, light blue eyes practically glowing in the dim light of the room.

"About... what you said – back at NCIS. I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, Joey," he offered.

"No, it isn't," she leaned forward. "I... I said a lot of things today I shouldn't have. The tapes – that wasn't your fault. It was a mistake. If I cared so much about the damn things I should have gotten them myself, and taking the shortcut – that was stupid, I never should've even suggested it-"

"Jo."

She faltered. "Yeah?"

"It's okay. Really."

She wasn't convinced. Sydney licked his lips, pulling the fortune out of his pocket and thumbing the tiny black letters. "At first I was mad just because I thought you didn't care if I got hurt." He remembered the sting of her words: w_ell, if you'd __rather__ die here_. "But after Gibbs and I talked I knew that was... stupid, so then I was just mad because you... talked me into it. I wasn't even thinking about Superflow, though getting the tapes _was_ my responsibility."

There were a few moments of silence. Joey inhaled deeply. "Well, I'm sorry... again. I really didn't mean for you to get hurt."

He shrugged. "You didn't know the dogs would be in there."

"That's not important. Even if they weren't, I shouldn't have tried that reverse-psych shit. Gibbs does it to me and I hate it."

Sydney chuckled, nodding once. "Truce?"

"For the foreseeable future, please and thank you," Joey sighed, exhaling contently.

On the opposite side of the room, the yellow hallway light filtered through the open trapdoor, beneath which Gibbs had been standing, before he smiled to himself and paced away down the steps to the living room.

"Ugh, how much longer?" Sydney complained, clutching his nervous gut.

"Now," she muttered, shaking the alarm clock.

"I went first last time," the boy encouraged.

Joey grinned, cocking her head at him so they could engage in a brief stare-down. "Baby," she shot as she gave in, grumbling out of the chair and taking the lead. Sydney chuckled, sliding down the ladder after her.

Together they emerged in the modest living room, smiles gone. Gibbs was pacing out of the kitchen as if on cue, gesturing toward the pinstriped sofa. The kids took a seat. He didn't. He stood there, sipping black coffee out of a ancient mug, making the both of them feel rather small. Joey swallowed, her stomach burning with anxiety. She knew what was coming – they both did – but Gibbs' intimidation factor was at an all-time high, and it made her want to try her luck making a break for the stairs and barricading herself in the bedroom.

"Who wants to go first?" he spoke, finally. Joey swallowed, glancing at Sydney, who tried to offer an expression of encouragement but seemed unable. "And before either of you answer," Gibbs cut in, "remember that I'm just as enthused as you are about getting this over with."

Before Sydney decided to be chivalrous, Joey got to her feet. Gibbs nodded, pointing Sydney toward the one empty corner in the room, where he quickly retreated, feeling all of three rather than thirteen. Joey watched him shuffle off with a glance over his shoulder in her direction, but Gibbs snapped his fingers, grabbing her attention. She looked up. He was pointing to the spot in front of him. She obeyed reluctantly, slinking forward. "Any chance you can be swayed on this?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't think so," she whispered as he took hold of her collar and pulled her into the kitchen, taking a seat upon one of the wooden dining chairs and pulling her over his lap.

"Wait, wait, wait!" she protested, wrapping her arms tightly around his leg.

"What?"

"Your shoe is untiedOW!"

Gibbs recovered quickly from the quip, laying down the swats without skipping a beat. He didn't draw it out, but long before the end Joey had begun to sniffle and whine. He wasn't about to demand tears, but he knew that by the end of the spanking the imp would be crying, hard as she was trying to hold it back. He gave her another few sound swats and pulled her to her feet. She hung her head in some pitiful attempt to hide the salty streaks running down her face as she fought to steady her hitched breathing.

But Gibbs wasn't through chastising her yet. "You know what you did to earn that?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir. I won't take the shortcut again."

"You'd better not. What else?"

"I won't fight with Sydney."

"Good. I was lenient today, especially considering that last offense. Next time you act like brawling toddlers I may not have the patience to treat you like one. When I was thirteen my father was paddling me for far less than getting into fights."

Joey nodded again and sniffed. Gibbs usually had some topper story about his own childhood to follow a spanking. The kids knew the threats were hollow. Well, mostly. Joey liked to think he maybe felt a little bad about smacking them.

Well, if he did, he was good at not showing it.

"Alright," he released her and grabbed a clean rag from the table, using it to dry to her face. She tugged away, but he pulled her back and into a tight hug. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Did I mention you were grounded?"

"Yup. Two days."

He held her out at arm's length, scrutinizing her seriously before his lips cracked into a smile.

"Nice try. Better make it two weeks."

"Worth a shot."

"Uh-huh. Trade places with your brother, half-pint." He chuckled, sending her off toward the corner with a kiss to her forehead and a solid smack to her backside.


	7. Alright

**Chapter 7 – Alright**

Standing in the corner listening to someone else being spanked was almost as unbearable as being in the opposite position. While Sydney's muffled cries echoed from the adjacent room, Joey leaned against the corner, gingerly rubbing her burning backside and failing to find a comfortable standing position. She bounced on her toes, trying to keep the moisture still brimming in her eyes from becoming another bout of crying. Gibbs knew what he was doing, that was for sure.

It had been about three months since she'd been the receiving end of one of his famous spankings, and of the handful in his repertoire she was grateful she hadn't gotten the strap, or [heaven forbid] the paddle.

Still [she stifled a whimper] the whole thing really sucked. And standing in the corner was for babies.

"Joey."

Startled, she accidentally thumped her head against the wall as she scrambled to stand up straight, pushing her hands down to her sides.

"Relax."

She did so, glancing over her shoulder. Gibbs was in the room, righting the pillows on the sofa before pulling her gently out of the corner. Sydney emerged from behind him, teary-eyed and sniffing but alright. He, too, was gingerly stroking the fire in his posterior, but when he looked up he tossed Joey a light smile.

"Gibbs?" Joey looked up.

"Mm?"

"I know we're grounded and all, but it's Friday."

"And?"

"And Fridays are family movie nights."

"Do we need to revisit what 'grounded' means?"

"No, but it wouldn't be fair that you have to miss out on a movie just 'cause we were idiots." She glanced at Sydney, who seemed in awe of her audacity, but went with it.

"Yeah, Gibbs. And maybe," he glanced at Joey, who nodded encouragingly. "Maybe it wouldn't be fair to make you watch alone. You could pick the movie."

"Yeah, we don't even have to like it. Just so you know we aren't actually enjoying it or anything. We'll stay here, just for you."

"Totally, pops. We ought to be ashamed of ourselves, after all."

Gibbs eyed them both back and forth. _The dubious little gremlins. They're tag-teaming on me. _

"Or maybe I could put you both back over my knee and make you stand in the corner for two hours while I watch _Barney re-runs_."

Sydney cringed.

"Or there's that," Joey whispered. She gave her brother a subtle look and they hung their heads pitifully.

"Christ," Gibbs whispered. "Alright, one movie. Your grounding starts tomorrow, and I don't want to hear any more guff out of either of you, understand?"

They nodded. He huffed and paced back into the kitchen.

Joey and Sydney waited until he was out of earshot before exchanging high-fives.

When the credits began to roll, Gibbs replaced the remote upon the coffee table as gingerly as was possible, though such minute shifts of his weight were undetectable by the easily-breathing lumps curled into his side. The lump at the end of the couch, however, awoke with a yawn and leapt to the floor, arching its back in a stretch.

The television went dark with a static _pop_ and Gibbs leaned forward, rubbing his tired hands over his face, feeling a bit of stubble. _Time to shave_, he thought, before standing and pulling his sleeping goddaughter into his arms. It was well past two in the morning on a Friday night. Making sure Joey's head wasn't lolling about upon his shoulder he headed for the stairs, the plump gray cat winding in between his legs contently before hopping up the steps.

_Damn cat_.

Damn Cat reached the trapdoor to Joey's room before he did and plopped down on his haunches patiently. Gibbs withdrew the steps and, tossing a light glare in the animal's direction, gestured toward the open threshold.

The object of scrutiny didn't budge, until Gibbs made a move to enter. He paused to let the cat through, but so did the cat. He moved again, the cat moved.

Finally, he sighed heavily and glared in his signature way at the cat, who mewed shrilly and quickly trotted up the steps, followed thrift upon by a nudge of Gibbs' socked foot.

Gibbs eased Joey onto her bed and pulled the covers out from beneath her. Reflexively, she stirred and allowed him to tuck her in. Skinny, toned arms found their way over her head in a pathetic stretch. Gibbs halted and remained very still, catching the cat midair as it tried to leap upon the bed, but the kid's exhaustion quickly drew her back into sleepstate. He lowered the fluffy basketball to the covers and watched it curl into the enclave of Joey's fetal position.

He gently carded a hand through her thick mop of unruly brown hair and pulled the sheets closer around her shoulders, before yawning and exiting the room to fetch his boy.

He eased Sydney onto his mattress and pulled the duvet up around him. The boy stirred and rolled to his side. A thin chain fell out of his shirt and onto the sheets around his neck. Gibbs lifted the end and thumbed the plain silver cross that hung there, absorbing the moonlight streaming in through the tall windows. He tucked the pendant back into Sydney's thin wifebeater and kissed his forehead.

Two weeks later, when the grounding was finally lifted, Joey voted to abandon a day of dance practice and together the kids rode the subway down to a expansive park at the edge of the main city blocks, where they ordered hot dogs from the vendor and consumed them in quiet contentment beneath the shade of a rustling oak tree.

"So what'd you ask me to bring all this stuff for?" Sydney swallowed down the last bite of his meal and gestured to the backpack full of the recording equipment he usually used for filming Joey and her friends dancing.

Joey nodded, taking a gulp of orange soda from a glass bottle and reaching into the pocket of her jeans. "I used my allowance to buy more tapes. I thought maybe we could use them to make our own video."

Sydney smiled. "But you don't even know how to work this thing."

"Yeah," she chuckled, tugging at the collar of her jumper. "I thought maybe you could show me."

"What about Superflow?"

"Sydney, you're the best switchboard guy we ever had, but," she faltered, looking evenly at him. "Do you even like it? I never even asked you if you wanted to, I just kinda... forced you into it."

The boy pressed his lips together sympathetically. "I like it. I like watching. I like working with the sounds and the levels and I like the music. Guess maybe I don't like it _all_ the time. I mean, three practices a week?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "It can wait."

He smiled.

"So," she reached into the backpack and pulled out the camcorder. "Where's the ON switch on this thing?"

Sydney chuckled.

The day had slipped into evening before the brother and sister made it back onto the train and emerged at their neighborhood station. They scampered up the stairs to the street and leaned against the same tree they always did. But before Joey could check her watch her pocket buzzed animatedly. She reached in and pulled out the cellphone the pair of them shared, flipping it open.

"Joey."

_Joey, it's Gibbs. Is Sydney with you?_

"Yeah, he's here." Sydney was hunched over the warm concrete, tying his shoe.

_What did you guys do today?_

"We were at Rickel Park, up near seventeenth."

_Sounds cool. Everything else alright?_

"Totally. And we'll be over there asap."

_Alright. Be careful._

"Always."

She snapped the phone shut. Sydney straightened up.

"What'd he want?"

Joey was still looking down at the phone, a smile spreading over her face. "Just asking about our day. Wants us to be careful coming home." She glanced at her watch. "Ten minutes 'til deadline."

"Oh, he's good," Sydney affirmed.

"Yeah," Joey mused softly, glancing up. She pocketed the phone and slung an arm over her brother's shoulders. "But we're better."

Sydney grinned, gazing out over the busy streets. "Ten minutes?"

She looked again, sighing. "Nine."

"We'll be late again." He watched the cars pass by with none of the anxiety he'd experienced not three weeks ago.

"Mmm," Joey shrugged happily. "I have a feeling he'll understand."


End file.
